F. ‘I am done, Gérard. . “Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. An ordinary type, of course—” Mrs. She kissed him with a closed mouth, not as recklessly as she was tempted to do. I had left Paris. A little love from him would be enough. She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there.
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